


Sherlock: Next Top Model

by NerdyMind



Category: Britain's Next Top Model, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock AU, elle macpherson hosts, top model crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-26 17:12:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2659925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyMind/pseuds/NerdyMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Top Model!lock Crossover fic created for <a href="http://gaybabylock.co.vu/">Kim</a> and the <a href="http://letswritesherlock.tumblr.com/post/102320257160/the-votes-are-in-and-you-all-have-chosen-for-lets">Let’s Write Sherlock</a> challenge.<br/>Each chapter will contain a mini homage to some of my favorite Johnlock AUs.</p><p>***WIP for a few months while I was in Hospital and ill, apologies!!!***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet the Models

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This initial chapter is a character introduction of the contestants.

Each model was asked how they feel about making it to the finals.

****

**Sherlock Holmes - 18, London**  
“I’m glad. It seems an interesting way to kill a few weeks and expand my skills.”

 

  ****

 **John Watson - 20, Gravesend**  
“I’m just going to do my best and hopefully make some new friends.”

  

****

**Bill Murray - 20, Coventry**  
“Excited and honored to be here.”

 

****

**Greg Lestrade - 22, Cardiff**  
“I’ll have to show all these young kids how tough the real world can be.”

 

**James Moriarty - 18, London**  
“I just hope it isn’t boring.”

 

**Sebastian Moran - 20, Cornwall**  
“No Comment.”

 

**Phillip Anderson - 19, Liverpool**  
“If what I see in the mirror every morning is any indication, I’ve got this.”

 

**Mary Morstan - 21, Bristol**  
“Really looking forward to making a new name for myself.”

 

**Irene Adler - 22, Manchester**  
“I can’t believe I get to work with Elle MacPherson. She’s a goddess, I am still shell shocked.”

 

**Janine Hawkins - 20, Stockport**  
“So many beautiful people in one house, I’ll try to keep my eyes in my head.”

 

**Molly Hooper - 19, Dublin**  
“I’m a bit homesick, but everyone has been so nice since we got here.”

 

**Sally Donovan - 21, Plymouth**  
“I only hope I can be a positive role model for anyone else who’s ever felt left out or bullied.”

 

**Sarah Sawyer - 19, Harlow**  
“I still can’t believe I was picked. Someone pinch me.”

 

**Soo Lin Yao - 20, London**  
“I can’t wait to surprise people back home. Watch out!”


	2. Week 1 - Balletlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first round of competition is brutal, eliminating almost half the models to get down to the top fourteen.

Twenty five chattering noise boxes stealing his oxygen. That is the recurring thought behind an unruly head of dark brown curls and frowning steel eyes. Sherlock Holmes sits at the back of the bus on its way to Oxford University and examines his competition. Immediately he realizes he is among the youngest. The only other eighteen year old model on board being the slick-haired, shark-eyed boy hidden in the shadow of his towering, towheaded seatmate three rows up. James and Sam or Seth or something, Sherlock tries to remember but quickly loses interest and moves on to another pair of unfamiliar faces.

Most of the models are nervous, chattering on about where they are from and whether they have done any professional work before. He’s more experienced than the red-headed young woman sat in front of him who has just confided in her seatmate that she dreamt of passing out, or the pair of young men whispering conspiratorially to his left about the attractiveness of their female competition. Sherlock knows his age will be seen as a weakness to those who wish to underestimate others. On cue, the oldest female model on board turns to look him over and rolls her eyes before turning back to whisper with her friend. _Typical_. With a sigh he leans back and looks out the window. The heavy clouds reflecting the dull grey of his stare.

Thousands of people from throughout the United Kingdom had sent in tapes, headshots and soppy backstories, desperate for a place on this bus. In the end, only thirteen boys and thirteen girls were chosen. Some people seem to have realized this. The sheer dumb luck which landed them such an opportunity. Sherlock’s ears drift in and out on the words of the chatterbox beside him.

“Amazing opportunity… so blessed… oh god I hope I don’t bollocks it all up.” The boy had introduced himself as Mike... Sherrinford? No, Stamford. He is plain looking, soft in the face and child like. Mousy brown hair, pale blue eyes. The judges usually pull a handful of average people into each of these competitions. Keep hope alive for the working class and all that. “Hope I’m not imposing,” Mike says. “I would have chatted with my mate but he’s sat up front with someone else.”

Sherlock follows Mike’s accusatory finger to the front of the bus. All he can see is a shock of straw blonde hair and dark black curls knitted close in intimate conversation. “You three know one another?” he asks before wondering why he’s engaging in such mundane conversation.

“No,” Mike answers with a glare. But he reigns it in to plaster on a smile of good intentions and shrugs. “Johnny and I met at uni two years ago but Bill is apparently an old mate from grade school. Just got back from the colonies so I’ve never met him.”

“Ah,” Sherlock tries to wrap his mouth around what he thinks is the proper tone for metered concern and sympathy. “Probably just catching up then.”

“Probably,” Mike echos back, no longer listening. Sherlock turns back to take in the view of their destination. The university spilling into view as their bus turns and pulls up the drive.  
____

Outside, they are each greeted with a black brolly bearing the _Britain’s Next Top Model_ logo and directed towards a patch of red carpet to begin individual interviews with a camera crew while they wait. Sherlock looks to the clouds again, fat and heavy with the threat of rain as everyone scatters about. Distracted, he does not see Mike slip next to him. The straw-haired boy and his childhood mate in tow.

“Sherlock Holmes,” Mike begins, pulling the tall boy’s gaze down to meet him.

 _Short and average looking, ouch_ , Sherlock thinks. “Yes?”

“I would like to introduce you to my best mate, John Watson,” Mike points to the blonde man who smiles and shifts his brolly to offer his hand before realizing Sherlock has made no effort to uncross his arms. Sherlock, in fact, doesn’t move at all. He is too busy processing the man stood before him. Average height but well built. Skin radiating with a lifetime spent absorbing the sun. At this proximity, John’s hair looks less like straw and more like spun gold. And below the shimmery mop is the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes Sherlock has ever seen. Staring back at him, waiting.

“And his.. friend um..,” Mike continues nervously. Sherlock offers the other man a small nod but does not remove his gaze from John’s eyes. He is transfixed by the startling blue shifting between shades. Unnatural and multifaceted. Sherlock has heard similar comments about his own eyes but never once considered using such flowery language to describe someone else’s.

“Bill Murray,” the young man standing to the left of John speaks up. “Like the actor, but not the actor,” he laughs and Sherlock snaps his attention away long enough to look across John’s shoulder. Just beside him, though nearly a head taller, is an open smile and soft brown eyes. The man is attractive. Tall, thin, gorgeous muscle tone obvious enough in just his neck and arms. The loose white tee they’ve all been instructed to wear stands taut against his chest and Sherlock is at once self conscious and jealous. He untangles his own thin arms and offers the man his palm. The contrast of his milky white skin meeting such deep brown is only heightened by the man’s sturdy grip. Sherlock suddenly feels frail and overshadowed. He thinks he understands true empathy now and sends Mike a knowing look. “Sherlock Holmes, nice to meet you.”

Bill shakes their joined hands and winks at him, continuing to laugh at his own joke. “Nice to meet you. Mike was saying you’re from London, yeah? John and I used to live there until our dads shipped out.”

From the corner of his eye Sherlock catches John’s smile falter and he quickly drops Bill’s hand. _Shit, I hadn’t even properly greeted the man._ “Apologies, John Watson was it?” he turns back to John and attempts to reboot their introduction when an eruption of excited shrieks ripples from the other contestants. The moment is lost as Elle Macpherson emerges from double doors pulling everyone’s attention.

“Models, welcome!,” Elle begins with a glowing smile. She radiates confidence and grace, pacing before the scattering of young men and women. Every eye and ear at her command. She waits for the cheering to settle before continuing. “Thousands applied, hundreds auditioned, but only twenty six of you made it. Congratulations.” More cheers. “Today begins your first day of class. You will each be tested on Model 101 and take a few exams. You will need to prove yourself to pass. Only fourteen of you will graduate and move into the model house.” Less enthusiastic cheers. Elle pauses to look skyward, the first drops begin to fall and she opens a bright red brolly without missing a beat. “Then let’s get inside and get started, shall we? Room 221B, class starts in fifteen minutes.” And with her final words, Elle spins around and ascends the steps.  
_____

In the classroom, everyone is shaking out wet vinyl when Elle enters. She stands behind the teacher’s desk and waits for the models to settle into a seat and quiet down. Beside her is a large mobile blackboard with two sets of legs standing behind it.

“No doubt you all know who I am,” she laughs with them. “Elle MacPherson, nice to meet you. I will be one of your judges and mentors these coming weeks. And joining me will be…” she pauses and looks to her left as a demigod emerges from behind the blackboard. He is easily over six feet if not pushing seven. Poured to bursting in a thin grey tee and skinny black denim. He has considerable strength in his upper body but a soft face and lean frame. “Bradley Ranger. World renowned supermodel and part time rockstar.”

Bradley laughs and joins her side behind the desk, waving to a sea of cheers and whistles. “Nice to meet you. I look forward to helping each of you tap into your best potential. Good luck to you all!” Sherlock can see the appeal of the man. His music is mediocre rock pop but his charms seem to come not from fame but from a down-to-earth quality. Bradley Ranger, despite his fame, seems approachable. “And joining me,” Bradley turns to the blackboard as it swivels around. “Ashleigh Kinsella, professional stylist and photographer.”

“Hello models!” The woman who steps forward is barely over five feet, pale, scattered in freckles and sporting a slick asymmetric bob of bright copper hair. She’s smartly dressed in a crisp white suit broken up by the flash of a deep green velvet waistcoat beneath. When she speaks, the lilting poetry of gaelic haunts each syllable and Sherlock can hear the nervous redhead, Molly, squeak in front of him. “Lovely to meet you all. Such bright young faces, ah I can’t wait to make you cry.” Elle and Bradley laugh beside her as she crosses the classroom to join them. Sherlock decides he likes Miss Kinsella.

“Okay,” Elle says, clapping her hands together to regain order and silence. “There are name tags and refreshments at the back of the class, help yourselves and mingle for a bit.” A few heads turn to see the table for themselves. “You will each be called into the next room one by one for interviews and headshots,” Elle says before flipping her red brolly in the air and catching it with a wink. She exits with the two judges on her heels.

Sherlock sits and waits for the initial crowd to disperse, choosing a seat to the far left and center to watch the others. Though trying his best not to stare, he watches John, Mike and Bill approach the table together. John finding their name tags and handing each out in turn. Sherlock finds himself wanting, for the first in a long while, to join them. His brother’s voice echoes in his head _It is a competition, Sherlock_ and he looks away.

The first person called to the next room is Molly Hooper. The squeaky young redhead from before. He knows her as the only Irish competitor. Though quiet and frail of frame, there is something in her face. A quiet fierceness in those doe eyes that says she will strike back and strike hard if provoked. Sherlock decides he likes her.

Before leaving, Molly had been chatting two young women. One, the only Asian Brit competing, Soo Lin. Two grades above Sherlock he recognizes her face. London native as well. She shares the same hidden fireball qualities he’s seen in Molly’s face and thus gets sorted along side her in the pile of people he’s chosen to tolerate. The third is another brunette. Dark brown hair, near black. She looks Czechoslovakian but Sherlock cannot place her face or her name. Squinting he can see her nametag reads ‘Mary - Bristol’ but nothing clicks. Something about her face seems off. He decides he does not like her.

Another group of girls breaks out into boisterous laughter and Sherlock’s attention is pulled to them. Two of the taller women stand center, talking animatedly with broad smiles and pointed gesticulation. He identifies them both as Sally and Jeanette. Two strangers turned friends since sharing a seat on the bus ride up. Both women are striking with darker skin than their competition and far more interesting features than some of the mousy women in the room. Sally’s entire poise and dominance rivals Elle’s and Sherlock decides he will need to keep an eye out for her.

Beside them are two young women chiming in, seemingly vying for inclusion but visibly relaxed around new people. Sherlock watches the shorter young blonde girl turn and he reads her tag, ‘Martha - London’. She looks vaguely familiar, a face he may have seen around but nothing clicks. Before he can squint to read the other girl’s name tag, Molly returns and calls for the next contestant.

“Irene Adler?” she says to the room. “You’re next. Good luck!” A woman in the corner turns from animated conversation with a similar looking girl, both pale beauties with long dark hair, and Sherlock recognizes them immediately. The two women giggling at him on the bus earlier. Irene gives the other girl’s hand a quick squeeze before dashing outside and Sherlock wonders if they know one another. The blushing face left behind tells him otherwise.

Sherlock starts looking over the male competition as people begin leaving for interviews and headshots, but finds them all rather boring. Or that’s what he tells himself to explain his utter fascination with John Watson. Something about the man is magnetic. His voice drawing attention from across the room. His laughter, flashing grin and dancing eyes holding Sherlock’s stare. It is not until the blond leaves for his interview that Sherlock returns to looking over everyone else and rising to fetch his name tag.

Straightening his white tee and picking lint from his jeans, Sherlock leans against the back wall and sizes up the rest of his competition. The older man, _Greg Lestreudle? Gavin Lestrade?_ It’s too difficult to see his tag clearly from this far back. He’s taken a few younger models under his wing. Philip, Charles and David hounding him with questions about Go-Sees and Portfolios. Despite the sort of questions Sherlock would find tedious, the older man has remained calm and helpful. Sherlock decides he likes him.

His eyes dart back to the empty desk where John sat before. About to turn away when he notices Bill and Mike sitting silent and awkward together. Sherlock, for reasons he cannot understand, crosses the room and takes up John’s vacant spot. “Gentlemen.”

“Sherlock!” Mike and Bill both smile a bit too relieved.

“Haven’t been called yet, right?,” Mike asks.

“Hmm? Oh right. Yes,” Sherlock answers. He has hundreds of questions about John but is trying to pick one that sounds casual when the door opens. John walks back in, looks around the room, finds Sherlock’s gaze and smiles at him. All at once he’s speechless. Watching the man cross the classroom to stand in front of him.

“Sherlock Holmes,” John says, looking down at him. “I believe you are in my seat. Also it’s your turn.”

Sherlock fumbles and stands a bit too quickly, forcing John to take a step backwards. They are nearly flush to one another, both blushing and apologizing. Sherlock slips past, grazing John’s shoulder as he rushes to the exit. Once in the hall, Sherlock pauses to gather himself. _What the hell was that?_ he wonders. He can hear his brother’s mocking laughter, faint but ever haunting.

In 221C, Sherlock is posed for simple headshots before a solid black backdrop. The makeup girl, Kitty something, gushes over his complexion and fusses with his curls for a few minutes. Then, five quick snaps before he hears the inevitable “perfect” and gets shuffled to 221D for his interview.

Elle sits at the center of a large table, Bradley and Ashleigh to her sides. “Sherlock, welcome. Can you give us a little walk please?” Sherlock struts to the desk just as he’s practiced a hundred times before, turns and walks back to the door, turning once more to face the judges’ table. “Lovely,” Elle comments. “You may have a seat.” She points to a lone chair centered before them.

“Thank you,” Sherlock settles and waits.

“So, Sherlock,” Elle starts. “Tell us what made you want to compete in _Britain’s Next Top Model_.”

Sherlock smiles and rattles off his rehearsed reply. “I wanted a new challenge,” he says. “I’ve modeled as a child but took a break to pursue dancing and music. This competition seemed like a good way to get back in the game.”

Elle flips through a folder with his headshot on the front sleeve before handing it to her left for Bradley.

“And what would you say is your favorite physical feature?” he asks.

Sherlock pauses a moment to think then answers, “My eyes and my skin are most often commented on by others but I most enjoy being tall.” This gets a laugh from the table and he silently congratulates himself.

Ashleigh is handed his folder and she sizes him up, Sherlock instinctually sitting straighter under her gaze. “Last question. Of all the contestants waiting next door, why should we choose you?” she asks.

Sherlock knows he’s answered this question already on his entry but decides they are looking for something more. “I will work very hard to not disappoint any of you. I am a perfectionist and a quick study so you if you’ll have me, you will get me one hundred percent.”

Ashleigh and Elle share a smile before Elle speaks again. “Thank you, Sherlock, that will be all. You may return to the classroom.”  
_____

Back in 221B, Sherlock walks to the refreshment table and grabs a bottle of water. The shark boy and his companion from the bus look him over before moving aside. James and Sebastian according to their name tags. Sherlock ignores the stares, leans against the wall and resumes people watching. More accurately, John watching. But John is missing as are half the models. He reasons they are in the hall doing individual video interviews. The one aspect of this show he despises, the gossip and forced drama. Sherlock begins to run conversation starters through his head for when John returns. The creak of a door interrupts his thoughts; the judges are back.

The models are brought back in and asked to find their seats as Elle, Ashleigh and Bradley file behind the front desk. “Models,” Elle begins. “In a moment you will be split off into two groups. Boys going with Bradley to the boys’ locker room and girls with Ashleigh. There you will each find a locker with your name on it. Now for the bad news. Six eliminations have been decided.” A scattering of gasps and groans echoes in the room. “If your locker does not have a gym bag inside, you will be going home today. Okay, ladies first. Follow Ashleigh please.”

Sherlock watches the girls stand and follow their judge. A few of them are already in a panic. Martha and Soo Lin sharing doubtful glances at the other girls. Sizing each other up. Molly wringing her hands at the back of the line.

“And boys, come with me,” Bradley says. He’s grinning a bit too wide, too reassuring. Sherlock strays to the back of the line, watching as they are all lead across an empty gymnasium to a room full of lockers. The front row has thirteen red labels with each models’ name. Bradley steps aside as each model moves to stand before their locker.

“Those of you with a bag, take it and return to the classroom. Elle will meet you there with further instructions,” he says. “The rest of you, stay here and I will make arrangements for your return.”

Sherlock turns to face his label and pulls in a deep breath. Holds it, closes his eyes and pulls the latch. Slowly he opens his eyes.

“Oh thank god,” he hears beside him. John’s voice. Looking over he sees the man pull a red gym bag from his locker and relief floods his system before Sherlock remembers to check his own locker’s contents. Inside is his own bag. He turns to offer a congratulatory smile, but John is gone. Turning, Sherlock finds him across the room with Mike and murmuring something that sounds like reassurance. Mike’s hands are empty.

Sherlock catches his eye as John pulls Mike in for a hug, shoots the poor guy a sympathetic eyebrow arch and shoulders his bag. He leaves the room of tearful goodbyes and heads back to the classroom. The camera crew is heading in to catch the tears for posterity, perfect time to bail.  
_____

All remaining ladies have already returned when Sherlock walks in. Angela and Soo Lin are in the back speaking with a lone interviewer, Janine and Irene whispering closely as they wait for their turn in front of the cameras. Mary has taken to Sarah and Jeanette and the three sit chattering to the side. Sally and Molly choosing to sit alone. Molly is sat front center nervously toying with the zipper of her bag so Sherlock takes a seat beside her.

Elle walks in and smiles out at them, settling behind the desk to wait patiently for the others to return. Sherlock watches Greg and Philip return, followed shortly by David and Charles. Behind them are Bill and John, both looking a bit deflated after saying goodbye to Mike. James and Sebastian come in last with a tall, lanky boy on their heels. ‘Tom - Cardiff’ according to his name tag.

“Models, congratulations,” Elle stands and smiles. “You made it through the first test and you should be proud of yourselves. But we still have to eliminate six more before moving into the house. So, without further delay, let’s begin phase two.” Walking around to the front of the desk, Elle continues. “Those of you familiar with the show may know that here on Top Model we like to play loose with stereotypes and gender roles. With that in mind, open your bags.”

The sound of twenty zippers sliding open drowns the small classroom and Sherlock looks down before breaking into a wide grin. In his bag are ballet flats. Glancing around he finds each of the male contestants holding up pieces of dance attire. Some suspiciously holding them at a distance. The girls seem equally confused by their bags. Each holding out rugby gear and equipment. Janine and Sally are the only two who seem even remotely excited by the possibilities.

“And now,” Elle says, drawing attention back to the front of the class, “would you like to meet your photographer?” Ashleigh walks in waving her camera. A scatter of cheers rings out and Elle raises her hand to quiet them.

“Hello models!” Ashleigh says. “Congratulations on making it this far. Now, today’s challenge will be a group photo. You will need to find a way to stand out and not get lost among your team. We are looking for supermodels with face recognition. So keep that in mind. I will start with the girls' teams on the rugby pitch, see you outside!” She waves goodbye and disappears as Bradley enters and pulls a list from his pocket.

“Models!” Bradley says with a grin. “Team A and B will come with me, Elle will take the rest of you outside. Now here are your assignments. Group A boys: David, James, Bill, Charles, and Tom.” The first five boys grab their bags and line up. “Group B boys: Sherlock, Philip, John, Sebastian and Greg.” Though he already deduced as much, the confirmation that John is in his group makes Sherlock giddy. They line up and wait as Bradley reads off the girl groups. “Group A girls: Irene, Mary, Janine, Soo Lin, and Jeanette. Group B girls: Molly, Sally, Sarah, Martha, Angela.”

“Ladies, you will be changing in here,” Elle says as makeup artists start filing into the room followed by assistants towing wardrobe racks with full rugby uniforms. “Gentlemen, follow Bradley to the auditorium where you will be working. I’ll see you at judging this evening!”  
____

Back in the locker room, they find their own hair and makeup team along with a rack of ballet attire. The cameras leave them alone for a while to go film the ladies, so Sherlock enjoys the peace and familiarity of the changing room. He takes a bench to the back wall and stretches lazily, relaxing his joints. The leotard chosen for him is solid black with sheer paneling in a deep V down his back. The seams of his tights sport matching panels, making his legs look impossibly longer. He thinks he catches John staring but dismisses the thought as wishful thinking. _Focus_ , his brother’s nagging voice says.

Of course, he ignores the voice once he glances up to catch John’s tan skin disappearing under white tights. And a matching dancer’s belt. John bent forward, one leg braced on the wall as he slowly rolls the first leg over his thigh. God those thighs. Sherlock has to face the back wall and count down his breaths until he can think again.

Once the cameras are back, Team A is ushered into the auditorium’s main stage where Ashleigh’s crew is setting up for the shoot. Team B follows Bradley to the front row of seats to watch. A few models pulled to the side for video commentary and Sherlock frowns when John is one of those taken. He begins wondering if two months will fly by before he gets to have an actual conversation with the guy.

The thought is quickly replaced with excitement as stage lights flicker to life and the reality of the competition drives home. Sherlock settles in, critiquing and taking notes. Listening in particular to Ashleigh’s commentary, gaining a feel of what she is looking for.

“Motion,” she says as the first group begins shifting poses. “I want to feel the dance, the energy. Yes, like that. Now you there to the left, yes, Bill, keep that pose but I want more.. yes. Power. Lovely. Okay switch.”

As Sherlock watches, each model is given the opportunity to be shot center frame. Though Ashleigh reminds them only one image will be selected for final review.

“Team B,” she calls. “You’re up!”

Sherlock takes the stage and his entire body settles into muscle memory. He feels at home here. Ashleigh begins with Sebastian center frame, Philip and John to his left, Sherlock and Greg to the right. Greg seems uncomfortable but finds his lighting as soon as the cameras begin snapping. Sherlock listens for adjustment notes and filters his posing between second and fifth positions in his feet and arms. Pulling dynamic angles where he can until it is his turn to move center.

After Greg and Philip have their moment, Sherlock is finally instructed to step forward. John and Sebastian are arranged to either side of him, their white leotards and blond hair a perfect backdrop for him to shine. And he does. The first frame snaps off and he finds the light, legs and arms up, and out, elongating his limbs to impossible lengths. _Let the others move_ , he thinks.

Suddenly, the flash snaps thrice and Sherlock is flying. Strong hands supporting him at the hips and he goes with it. Throws himself into the improvised pas de deux, dancing in rhythm with the man behind him from a lift that bends him almost in half to a frozen spin and settling back on his feet with a penché. He’s breathless and turning to say something when applause rings out.

“Amazing!” Ashleigh says, “fantastic improvisation, John.”

 _John?_ Sherlock turns to find the man red faced and smiling shyly. Unable to meet his eyes.

“I hope that was okay,” he whispers, toeing the wood paneling of the stage. Sherlock opens his mouth to answer before--

“Okay, John, your turn,” Ashleigh says. “Sherlock to the left please, Greg to his right.” They shuffle again, flashes clicking. Now everyone wants to lift everyone else but none of the poses feel as fluid as the first time. The shoot wraps up and Bradley returns, dragging them back to the dressing room to change before Sherlock has a moment to catch his breath.

____

After an hour’s break where John has inconveniently vanished to do side interviews again, Sherlock sits back in 221B fighting an internal war with his brother’s nagging reminders. Every word hammered into him since childhood. He looks up to find a camera crew in the corner, filming him. _Fantastic_ , he thinks. Wondering what label the graphics team will slap on him. _Freak. Loner. Weirdo_.

Before he can get too down on himself, the models are reassembled and shuffled into a larger assembly room. A projector is set up in the middle aisle, a table center stage covered with faux diplomas and portfolios. The excited whispering tapers off to eager silence as the judges enter and settle behind the table.

“Graduation day!” Elle beams. “Are you all excited?” Scattered cheers and whoops ring out. “Alright, hit the lights,” she says. The auditorium goes dark and the projector lights up. The show logo looming large over the judges’ heads.

“Team A, boys,” Ashleigh’s voice says as the projector clicks. Sherlock looks up to see the top group photo flash overhead and murmurs spill around him. Center is Jim, all teeth and looking even more shark-like than humanly possible. The other four boys are holding him up. His black leotard is similar in design to Sherlock’s, sheer panels showing snips of pale skin. Though shorter than most contestants, he’s masterfully chosen a pose that elongates his neck and legs. Sherlock finds the boy impressive. He drifts out as the judges comment on the same things he’s already noticed in the shot. The weaker players, those who will need improvement. Only tuning back in when the projector clicks again.

“Team B,” Elle says. Sherlock looks up and can hear gasps around him. One of which sneaks from his own mouth. He looks amazing. Weightless and beautiful in a way he’s never been photographed before. And the arms around his waist, holding him steady as he hovers just a few inches from the ground, are lean and corded with muscle. Where Sherlock looks frail and seconds from blowing away, John is steady, solid and bracing behind him. They are perfectly matched. The other three men in the image barely noticeable as more than props.

“This,” Ashleigh is saying, smiling down at them. “This is exactly what I was looking for today. The balance of strength and frailty. Ballet as a delicate art but a demanding physical sport. You two performed wonderfully, keep this up. The rest of you, take notes.”

“And now the ladies,” Bradley says. The projector clicks again. “Team A.” The image switches to an outside shot, full of action. the girls are dressed in black and white opposing team rugby uniforms. Janine and Irene are center, Irene faux tackling her competitor as Janine feigns to reach for the ball. Irene somehow managed to look both beautiful and dirty, smudged makeup only affording her eyes more brilliance. Behind them, their teammates are mid dash but no one stands out. Sherlock notes all this as Bradley rattles off similar commentary.

Then he says something that sets off giggling. “You got a good shot today, but remember to keep the flirting under wraps. You will be dealing with professionals who have no patience for messing around.” Sherlock tries not to look, but he side glances anyway and catches Janine slipping lower in her seat, face flushed crimson. At least he’s not the only one feeling a bit.. distracted by attractive competition. He finds it reassuring.

“Last, but not least,” Elle says. The projector whirring and clicking once more. “Team B ladies.” The screen blinks and everyone gasps for the second time that day. Sally is center frame, dominating the entire image. The first thing Sherlock notices is her hair, catching the light in an array of honey colors. The second is her face, particularly her eyes. Sally stares straight through the camera, a look warning the viewer to move or get mowed down. Her pose is dynamic, energetic and amazing. He puts her back at the top of his list of people to watch.

“Lights,” Elle calls from the stage and the room brightens back up. “Now the exciting bit.” The room falls silent with anticipation. “We have up here fourteen diplomas, tied around each is a key to the model house with your room assignments. You will also get your portfolio which will grow as you progress in the competition. Inside, you will find your headshot from this morning and a copy of your group photo.” Elle stands and picks up the first packet.

“First place, with top photo and overall score for today..” She pauses for the cameras to grab a few drama shots. Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Sherlock Holmes!” Sherlock chokes on air and stumbles to stand, his legs suddenly forgetting that he is, in fact, not a baby deer. Despite the raging voice in his head, he is grinning and fighting off a giggle fit as he crosses the stage, accepts a hug from Elle, his house key from Bradley and his portfolio from Ashleigh. Down the side steps, assistants guide him outside to the bus where the camera crew waits.

“Sherlock!” they shout, microphone and camera lights in his face. “You won the first challenge, and made it to the Top Model house, how does it feel?”

“Fantastic,” he manages. Pausing a moment to compose himself. “The competition looks to be on top of their game though, so I won’t slack off next week.” He smiles his big fake TV smile and waves them off to climb onto the empty bus.

Once settled into his familiar seat at the back of the bus, Sherlock finally lets himself smile for real. He sets the key aside to flip through his portfolio, skipping the bland headshot to get a good look at the group shot in more detail. Though telling himself he meant to look over everyone in the image, he finds his eyes drawn to John’s form. His muscles strained in the thin stretch of white lycra. Sherlock lets his gaze trace the lines of John’s pose, up each leg, across his arms, the stiff fingers digging into his hips. He swallows hard, flushing at the thought of those hands holding him so intimately. Desperate for distraction, Sherlock forces himself to look higher. John’s chest and shoulders face forward, neck and jawline prominently displayed for the viewer, but those blue eyes are trained on Sherlock’s profile, not the camera.

“May I join you?” Sherlock jolts and looks up to find those beautiful blue eyes staring down at him. John shuffles nervously, waiting for an answer as Sherlock looks around, blinking back to reality. No one else is on the bus so he reasons John has placed second.

“But of course,” he manages, picking his rolled parchment and house key from the seat. As John settles beside him, Sherlock shifts and offers his hand in greeting. He fights every urge to squeal when the delightful warmth of John’s palm finally connects and he is hit full force with that brilliant smile just inches away. “Sherlock Holmes,” he says around a laugh.

“John Watson,” the boy answers back. “Pleasure to meet you, Sherlock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Results:
> 
>  **Winners**  
>  Sherlock  
> John  
> Sally  
> Irene  
> Bill  
> Jim  
> Soo Lin  
> Sebastian  
> Janine  
> Mary  
> Phillip  
> Greg  
> Sarah  
> Molly
> 
>  **Eliminated**  
>  boys: Mike, Tom, David, Charles  
> girls: Jeanette, Theresa, Angela, Martha  
> ____________
> 
> So sorry for the massive delays in posting this. The good news is, I am all moved in now and my PC made it to NY in one piece so I can go forth updating weekly starting next Friday (Dec 26). Each chapter will be written as an episode ending with a winners and elimination list. There will be a mini challenge and a main challenge (each week inspired by and named for a different Johnlock AU) with some behind the scenes action. I am going to stay close to Sherlock's POV to limit the story somewhat. Hope you enjoy!


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